The One that Took Two
by FlynnWriter
Summary: Morgan's morning coffee at a small diner takes a turn for the worse when a gunman comes in, creating a hostage situation that is in no way routine. When tragedy strikes, will Morgan be able to overcome it? (Some Morgan whump, much Morgan angst, no romance.)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Morgan was waiting below the striped overhang of the diner, sitting on a bench just outside the door. A mid-April chill made the wind nippy, but it felt good to bask in spring's first rays of sunshine. Piles of mucky snow melted into the gutters, gurgling in the background of the bustling street. It seemed like everyone was out this morning, taking advantage of the first nice weather in months, just as Morgan was doing. He wrapped his leather jacket closer around himself, wishing his friend would get there soon so they could go inside. He saw Eli down the street, striding towards him, and waved. The young African-American man smiled widely, waving back and walking faster. "My man Eli!" Morgan said, shaking his hand. "How have you been, kid? I haven't seen you in ages?"

Eli grinned happily. "Sup Derek! I've been good. Going to college."

"So I heard! Hey, let's go inside. I've been waiting on you forever." The diner wasn't much warmer, but at the very least it was out of the wind. As they ordered, and Eli pulled out his wallet to pay, Morgan chuckled. "It's on me, Joe College. You're going to lose enough money paying for tuition and board."

"Thanks, man. And you know, thanks for meeting me." Eli tucked the wallet into his back pocket and picked up the steaming mug of coffee, inhaling deeply.

"Eli, I can't say no to my mama. When she told me you were coming down here, to play football no less, I was game. How's Sarah?" Morgan had known Eli's mom since high school, and had kept in touch with her family ever since then.

"She's good. Sad that I'm going so far away, you know, but…" He trailed off as they sat down at a table near the front window, and Morgan finally got a chance to appraise the kid that sat in front of him. Everything about him seemed older than the last time they had seen each other. He was taller, and had gotten a new haircut. His jeans no longer bore the rips and stains of a few years earlier, and his University of Maryland sweatshirt looked brand new. His sneakers were pretty much the same as they had always been, a flashy brand-name pair of basketball shoes.

"So you got some good scholarships?" Morgan asked.

Eli's face lit up. "Yeah, the center's got some pretty good connections. I got a football scholarship. It's not big, but…"

"Big enough, I get it." The hair on Morgan's arms rose when Eli mentioned football. "Did Buford coach you?"

"Just for two years. I was never his…favorite." Eli said. He looked uncomfortable, as if this privilege had somehow caused his friends' pain. "But I was good enough. Once we got a new coach, he trained me and helped me to try out for the University of Maryland team."

"Yeah, I heard he was a good guy. I'll stop back the next time I'm in the neighborhood." Morgan took a sip of his coffee, the hot bitterness zapping his system with it a burst a caffeine.

"You're a legend there." Eli smiled and took a bite of his sandwich. "When I tell kids you were the one to teach me to play football…" He whistled under his breath. "Man, are they impressed. I'm surprised your picture's not on the wall or something."

"Eh, I made them take it down." Morgan teased. "But it's your turn to make a name for yourself. Nobody knows me at U Maryland. Well, I've guest lectured there, but other than that…nobody." He leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head.

Eli chuckled. "A new start. God, I can't wait to sign."

"It's too bad your mom couldn't be down here this weekend too."

"She took a second job, so she's pretty busy. She's for sure going to be here to help me move in, though. Pre-season starts in July."

"I'll come out to help you move in too; I'd love to see Sarah again. What the…" He had spotted something out of the corner of his eye. At the counter, a customer in the front of the line was jiggling nervously, fiddling with something in his pocket. "Eli, stay here…" Morgan stood up quietly, following his instincts and walking slowly towards the cashier. The man moved to the front of the line and said something inaudible to the red-headed waitress at the cash register, who yelled back into the kitchen. The shabbily-dressed teen appeared to be around Eli's age, but skinnier. His jacket was old and wrinkled, and his jeans were ratty and torn. He looked up as a girl walked out of the kitchen, and smiled in relief.

Her face, though, was less than pleased. Morgan could clearly hear her, though, her voice carried through the diner. "Just get out of here! I'm working, Flak. Please, just go, we can talk later." Suddenly, the boy's face twitched with anger. Before Morgan could stop him, he slid a Glock 19 out of his pocket, shooting her in the chest. Morgan jerked forward, but was too late by long seconds. He heard the shot echoing disjointedly in his eardrums, and saw the girl fall backwards into the espresso machine. Blood and coffee pooled on the ground around her and soaked into her clothes. The bullet had struck her just above the heart, and immediately Morgan could tell that she was dead.

The chaos unfolded in front of him, but Morgan turned his focus onto the shooter. The kid looked confused and shocked by his own actions, and stumbled as he walked back towards the door and Morgan took advantage of his pause, walking towards him. His hand snaked to his hip, finding the empty space where his holster usually was; but he had left his service weapon at home today. "FBI!" He called out, holding up his badge instead. "Drop the gun, sir. No one else needs to be hurt today."

The boy's face lost all color that it had left, and he aimed the gun shakily at Morgan. "No…what? What are you doing here?" He tripped over an abandoned purse as he moved backwards, but kept his balance.

"Just put the gun down, and we can talk." Morgan's presence had unnerved the kid, and he took another small step closer.

"Get away!" The teen sputtered, waving the gun wildly. The gun discharged again, into the wall, but it could have been accidental; Glock 19's were known for their hair triggers. The second shot only incensed the commotion in the diner, and Morgan could barely hear the gunman, even though he was shouting. But Morgan's powerful voice cut through the melee. "Everybody freeze!" People stopped where they were, trying to cower behind tables and chairs. "Please, just remain calm." The gunman walked towards the door, blocking the exit. He fumbled as he locked the door, and as his back was turned, Morgan stepped closer. He felt, rather than saw, Eli sneak behind him.

"Just calm down, sir." Morgan said, capturing his attention again. "I'm sure we can figure this out."

"She cheated on me." The gunman said disbelievingly. "I had to. I…I…she…" His eyes were terrified and bloodshot, roving madly around the room, and Morgan wondered if he was high. "And then she lied to my face! It wasn't supposed to happen this way. You weren't…I didn't…she…"

"What do you want to do?" He kept his voice expertly even, not allowing even a ripple of emotion in. Holding his hands defensively, he inched forward again, within five or six feet of the weapon.

"I just wanted to talk to her…But she…she…" The sobs and whispers in the diner were unnerving the boy, and he turned the gun on a small woman cowering in the corner. "Stop crying!" He screamed, but her sobs only intensified. He held one hand over his ear, the semi-automatic still in his other hand. "Make them stop! Stop! STOP!" He jammed the gun closer, and once again, Morgan felt dread flood through him as saw what was going to happen a second too late.

"Drop the gun!" He cried, running towards him. The boy's finger twitched, and Morgan heard the shot at the same time he saw the stain bloom on the woman's stomach. He lunged towards the gunman, but felt something else as he moved…a sharp pain in his right side and a massive impact that spun him sideways onto the ground.

"Derek!" Eli cried out, running to Morgan. He was lying on his back, excruciating pain building in his side. Morgan could feel the exact point of entrance, like a small molten sun exploding into millions of stars, a supernova in his abdomen. He cried out, finding the small hole with his hand.

"Nobody move!" The gunman roared.

"Eli," Morgan panted, sitting up. "Stay behind me. I'm fine." He could feel blood filling his hand, and pressed tighter against the hot gushes. He turned to the boy, who was only becoming more frantic by the second. "Sir, calm down, please. Put down your weapon."

"No…" The boy muttered. Sirens echoed in the distance, and judging by the boy's twitching and wild eyes, cops were a hindrance rather than a help. "No…this isn't happening." Morgan could see him struggling to make a plan in his tweaked-out mind. "Um…Everybody, get in front of the windows. If anyone tries to leave, I'll shoot." People scurried towards the floor to ceiling windows in the front of the café, standing where Morgan and Eli had been sitting not a minute earlier. The boy ran to check the lock on the door, fear hanging on his thin face.

"Derek, you're shot." Eli whispered. The gunman was distracted arranging his human shield, so Morgan took the chance to look at his side. "It must have ricocheted." Morgan carefully removed his hand, and looked at the single, round hole, clear through his jacket. Another heartbeat sent blood gushing out the wound again, and Morgan quickly replaced his hand. He swallowed the nausea, and calmly looked at Eli's scared face.

"It's not serious." He reassured the boy. "Eli, is there an exit wound?" He leaned forward, but the back of his shirt was clean.

"No, nothing. Is it…it's still in there?" Eli asked, swallowing hard.

"Apparently. That's not good." He thought quickly, but he couldn't see many options. He could barely lean forward without feeling like losing his breakfast. "I need you to get me some napkins or towels. Grab them from the counter." As Eli crawled away, though, the gunman turned back around.

"You!" Eli shrank back behind Morgan. "Stand with the rest of them. Get your friend over to the window too." He pointed with his gun to the last window, which was only partially covered by the skinny, red-headed waitress that had been working the counter. "Do it now!" He yelled.

"Do it, Eli." Morgan gasped. "Everybody do what he says." He called out louder. A couple of people nodded, but most were too terrified to even acknowledge him. Eli helped Morgan stand, and he stumbled over to the window. Eli set Morgan against the wall and stood up next to the girl, who was shaking. She gave him a tiny smile and glanced at Morgan, who was trying stay upright. A puddle of blood was forming beneath his side, the glossy red splotch staining everything it could touch. The floor was dirty and dusty, a coating that hadn't seen a broom in years, and the curling wallpaper behind Morgan's back wasn't much better. "Now what?" Morgan asked loudly.

"Now we wait." The kid said, pacing. "I need to get out of here."

Morgan could feel blood seeping from the hole, and the first seed of doubt crept into his mind. If they waited much longer…well, he didn't want to think about what would happen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Police cars pulled up to the front of the restaurant, their tires squealing and sirens blaring. Morgan could see the commotion, but none of his familiar black SUVs had arrived, not that he had expected them too. Morgan turned his attention back to the gunman, who was sitting at a table, his leg jiggling. "Hey Kid." Morgan called. He looked up once, but didn't respond. "What's your name, kid?"

"Stop calling me kid." He muttered, scratching his head. "I'm not a kid."

"Alright, I'm sorry." Morgan assented. "Tell me your name and I'll call you something else. My name's Derek."

"You can call me Flak. As in the jacket." He sniffed, running his hand under his nose. Morgan could tell that although he wasn't a gangster, he was sure as hell trying to be one. He seemed to be coming down from a coke high, but Morgan guessed he wasn't a regular user.

"Alright, Flak." Morgan said. "I work for the FBI. I'm bleeding here, and it isn't going to look too good for you if I die, so do you think my man Eli here can help me?"

"No! He stays where he is. I…uh…what do you need?"

Morgan looked down at his shirt, and frowned. The pain wasn't so bad if he didn't move, but half of his shirt was already soaked through with blood, and it wasn't stopping anytime soon. His tongue felt like a dry brick in his mouth, and a dizzy headache was lurking at the back of his mind. "Dishtowels, and water. Gatorade, if there is any."

"I'm not going back into the kitchen so they can escape." Flak spat. "Try again."

"She can go!" Eli interrupted, nudging the girl next to him. "I'm so big, I'll cover the whole window. She can get the stuff. The waitress nodded timidly, stepping out.

"Linnea-go." Flak said, knowing he was out of other options. "Come back quickly, or I'll shoot him." The gun shook in his hand as he pointed it at Morgan's head. Morgan turned away, gazing out the windows where the police were organizing. The waitress ran to the kitchen, determination covering her face. She disappeared into the kitchen, and they waited for what seemed like forever. "Come on!" Flak shouted, and she walked back out, carrying a bottle of blue Gatorade and some towels.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm back." She flushed. "Can I help him now?" Flak nodded mutely, walking to the other side of the diner. "No funny business now," he called over his shoulder. He walked behind the hostages, trailing his gun along the back of their necks.

"The towels." Morgan told her. "Fold one up. Give it to me." Grimacing in pain, he tucked it underneath his hand. "What's your name?" He whispered.

"Linnea Ericcson. Cassie and I worked together." She motioned to the counter.

"Cassie was the girl who was shot?" Morgan asked, leaning his head against the wall. His voice was hoarse, and losing volume with every word. "Did she know him?"

"Yeah." She breathed. "She and Flak used to date. I don't really know what happened between them." She tucked a tendril of red hair behind her ear. "You want some Gatorade?"

"Help me." Morgan breathed. She checked over her shoulder to see Flak still pacing on the other side of the small store, and looked up to Eli, who was glancing back down at them. He nodded, looking back out the window. Linnea held the bottle to Morgan's lips, tipping it back slowly. Some of the liquid dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, and she gently wiped it away as he spoke again. "Do you know him?"

"Not well. He came in here a few times to see Cass."

"Is he a tweaker?"

"That's why they broke up; he started using." She said, helping him take another sip. "It was about two weeks ago."

"Okay...good...Linnea, is there a back door?" Morgan whispered.

"Yes, but it's completely blocked. We haven't used it in years." Morgan shook his head, and she held the bottle up to his lips again. He swallowed thirstily and glanced out the window, breathing slowly. The first chills characteristic of blood loss invaded his body, and he shivered.

"Are you okay?" Her voice seemed distant, although he could see her lips moving. He shook his head and concentrated on calming his body down. He watched the organized chaos out the window, people flowing and ebbing like a noisy tide.

"More. I have to keep my fluids up." A camera flash from outside the window caught his eye, and he craned to see where it had come from. Someone was taking picture of the hostages to identify them, and Morgan had an idea. He put his hand on her leg to get her attention. "On my belt. There's a badge. Grab it." She pulled it off, and gave it to him. He leaned it against the window, hoping to catch the attention of the officers outside. "They don't know I'm FBI."

"What're you doing?" Flak said suspiciously, eyeing Morgan and Linnea whispering on the ground.

"Relax, Flak. She's just trying to help me." Morgan looked down at the towel at his side, and was relieved to see that it had somewhat stemmed the flow. As long as he didn't move too much, he would be fine.

"Get away from him." Flak yelled, pointing the gun at her. She stepped back up next to Eli, but pressed her back against the pane of glass instead of facing out, keeping her concerned gaze trained on Morgan. "Turn around." Flak commanded, shoving her. She lost her balance and fell into Eli, who stumbled but caught her and stood her up again.

Morgan knew that the cops outside would try to begin negotiation soon, but he already had a connection and he hated to lose it. "Flak?" The boy turned towards him, and Morgan could tell he was definitely coming down from whatever he was on. "Hey man. Do you want to tell me why we're here?"

"I need to get out. You're my ticket home," He said, rubbing his forehead. "Cassie wasn't supposed to die. I just wanted to talk."

_Then why did you bring a gun?_ Morgan wanted to ask him. He swallowed it, and kept talking. "I get that, Flak. I can tell you just wanted to talk. But Cassie's dead now. You can't fix that. But you can still get out of here a free man."

"What about her?" The boy's voice was even and distant, but still oddly tender. It was obvious that the second woman wasn't meant to die, and this boy wasn't the raging psychopath that the BAU team typically hunted. The body was slumped against the opposite wall, the wallpaper behind her stained a deep maroon. It had been a messy death, blood spurting as her heart fought to beat, eventually giving up in a dramatic thump. Everyone in the diner had watched it happen in horrified silence, except Flak. Morgan took another shallow breath, feeling a new, intense pain shooting up and down his side. "What happened?"

"I don't know, I just…just panicked." He stared at the gun in his hand, running a finger over the smooth, deadly mechanics.

"We can stop this, you know." Morgan said slowly, trying to find a connection with him. "If you give me the gun now, we can make this all go away."

"I don't surrender." Flak spat, acid coating his tongue. Morgan closed his eyes in frustration, Flak wasn't taking his bait. Somehow, he needed a new tactic. "I have a plan." Flak continued, turning his back on Morgan.

"You have a plan?" Morgan said, wincing as he tried to sit up straight. He kept sliding down the tiled wall as he lost strength, but he needed to stay upright as long as possible. "You want to explain that to me kid?"

"I told you not to call me kid!" He yelled, flying into a rage again. His nostrils flared, and he began pacing, swinging the gun nervously around the room. "Why don't you listen to me?!"

"Flak, calm down. It was a mistake." Morgan said. His hand was starting to cramp from holding the towel so tightly, and he shivered uncontrollably now. His voice was weaker, his strength slowly seeping away with the blood. "Flak, I really need some help. Can Linnea help me again?"

"No! She needs to stay at the window. She's my assurance!"

Eli, who had stayed silent until now, turned and looked Flak directly in the face. He towered over the boy, and even though Flak had a gun, Eli's strength and power were intimidating. "Look at him, man. He's dying. If you won't let us help him, than you do it yourself." Flak looked between Morgan and Eli, hesitating for a second too long. "You're just letting him die." Eli shouted, raw panic edging into his voice.

"Fine!" Flak agreed. He aimed his gun at Linnea, his finger sliding down to the trigger. "Help him." She fell to his side, putting another towel over the first one, which had turned a deep maroon, like it had been dipped in dye. She went for the Gatorade again, but the bottle was nearly empty.

"Flak, we need another bottle." She pleaded.

"No! That's all you get. I'm not letting you go back again." She exhaled in frustration, but held the bottle up to Morgan's lips, letting the last of the Gatorade drip onto his tongue. His lips were dry and losing their color.

"I'm cold." Morgan sighed. It was unnecessary, though, because even Flak could see how much he was shaking. Linnea grabbed a jacket off the back of a chair, and draped it over Morgan's chest, tucking it in around him as best she could. As she jostled him a little bit, Morgan closed his eyes and stared out the window, going to another place, away from the pain. Suddenly he saw them…three black SUVs, pulling onto the scene. They were here. His team, his friends…his rescuers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It had only been an hour and a half since the whole debacle had started, yet to everyone involved it felt like so much longer. The whimpers of the hostages had turned into mutinous whispers, and a couple of the men were talking and glancing at Flak surreptitiously. The boy had sat down in a chair, his leg jiggling again. It was obvious that he was no longer high, but Morgan wasn't sure of what sort of personality the boy had while sober. Flak simply watched the windows and waited, for what no one was sure.

But with the arrival of the FBI, the atmosphere outside had picked up a sort of buzzing hopefulness. Morgan could see his team pile out of the SUVs, beginning their work. Hotch went up to the lead detective, who pointed towards Morgan's badge in the corner window. Immediately, he and Morgan locked eyes, and Hotch motioned the rest of team over. Their eyes flickered to him every couple of seconds, staring for a while before turning back to Hotch. Garcia came out of the van, and gasped when she saw Morgan in the window. Morgan saw Alex led her away from the group, talking to her and calming her down. She glanced over her shoulder too and Morgan managed a weak grin, wiggling his eyebrows, but she didn't smile back. JJ got his attention, miming a gun and mouthed "How bad?", making a one and five with her fingers.

He understood and slowly held up five fingers, the simple act of which had become a laborious task. JJ nodded mutely and told Hotch, a newfound fear covering her face. Hotch picked up the bullhorn and his voice suddenly roared into the diner. "David Helmsley?"

Flak's head shot up, and he walked to the windows to peer out at the distraction from in between hostages. His face was livid, like he had been caught off guard. David Helmsley must have been his real name; in the back of his mind Morgan wondered how they had found him. "David Helmsley." Hotch continued, his voice as authoritative and powerful as ever. "I'm going to call the diner phone. I need you to pick it up." Seconds later, the phone rang, and Flak looked at it blankly.

"Linnea." Flak called, beckoning her over. The gun had been in his hand the whole time, and it was obvious that he was starting to get comfortable with it as he held it next to her neck, finger on the trigger. He cleared his throat and stood taller "Answer it."

But Linnea wasn't as scared as she as before; her stark fear had been replaced with even more pressing concern. She quickly picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Put it on speaker." Flak barked, and she set the receiver down, grasping the counter with both hands.

"Who is this?" A voice asked. Morgan sighed in relief when he recognized the practiced tone, a passively patient voice that could only belong to Agent Aaron Hotchner. Morgan couldn't begin to imagine the repercussions if an inexperienced hostage negotiator made a mistake. No, the only people he trusted when his life was on the line were his own.

"Linnea Ericcson. I'm a waitress here." Her knuckles were white, and she glanced back at Morgan and Eli for reassurance.

"Linnea, is David listening in?"

"Of course I am," he growled, leaning over to talk into the phone. "What, you think I'm stupid enough to let a hostage talk on the phone without listening?"

"That's not what I was implying, David. It was just a question." Hotch's voice was calm and collected, his cool demeanor making him sound authoritative, but not threatening. Morgan had long admired his ability as a negotiator, and he was eternally grateful that Hotch was on the line instead of himself.

"My name's Flak. I haven't been David in years." He was standing over Linnea, still for the first time that afternoon.

"Alright Flak. My name is Aaron Hotchner. Can you tell me if anyone is hurt in there?"

"You already know there is. One of your guys." Morgan looked down at his side, and knew that 'hurt' could only begin to cover what was really going on. It didn't even hurt anymore, really. The pain was dulling, his senses slowly shutting down to preserve what mattered.

"We need to get him medical attention. Release him and the other hostages, and we can talk about what you want, one on one."

Flak snorted. "Aren't you supposed to ask me what I want before you start negotiating?" His arrogance was growing, and his cooperating was diminishing accordingly. This was the dangerous part of negotiation; the more confident the unsub, the harder it is to talk them down.

Linnea, long forgotten by Flak, was glancing over her shoulder fearfully, and Morgan followed her stare to the three men who were muttering earlier. They were turned and blatantly watching, and one of them took a step away from the window. Morgan felt a sense of dread growing in his stomach, and spoke up. "Hotch, we're all okay in here. We're just waiting for you." The men looked at him, and he shook his head firmly. Flak was still obsessed by the phone, and missed their silent exchange after Morgan's comment. The men turned back to the window, not fully convinced, but dissuaded out of their plan.

"You heard him." Flak spat. "It's up to you. Here's what I want. One of your FBI SUVs outside the door. I'm keeping a hostage to drive me away. I'll drop him off, unharmed, once I'm sure there's no one following me." Despite the confidence in Flak's voice, Morgan could point out thirteen loopholes in his plan, and sighed in relief. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

"You know I can't just let you take a hostage, Flak."

"You know I can't just let go of all my hostages, Aaron." Flak mocked. He slammed the receiver down into the cradle, and turned to survey the room. Morgan glimpsed Hotch out the window, looking directly at him again, his face concerned. He mimed something with his hands, moving them up and down, but it didn't make sense in Morgan's distracted brain. As Hotch tried again, Morgan was suddenly overcome by dizziness, and he dry heaved before he could stop himself. Nothing came out, but the pain radiated through his side, tearing at the muscles in his abdomen. The combined nausea of the dizziness and pain attacked his senses; it was all he could think about.

"Flak." He gasped, holding his free hand over his eyes. "Flak listen to me, man. I gotta lie down. I need help." Before he could protest, Morgan cut him off, his hard voice scaring the boy into submission. "Now."

Linnea ran over, helping him lay down on the floor. As he fell onto his back, Morgan swallowed his scream of pain. He could feel his team watching him from outside the glass, observing the scene through cracks in the legs of the hostages. The tile was hard and oddly comforting, but it was freezing against his bare head. "Cold." He murmured, and Linnea grabbed more coats, piling them on top of him. She took off her navy blue apron, bunching it up and sliding it under Morgan's head. "You need to keep pressure on my side…I can't do it…" Her face was white, but he was sure that his own looked worse. "More." He grunted, and she pressed harder, sending waves of agony through his abdomen. The nausea had subsided, though, and he noticed the phone was ringing. Flak was standing next to it, hand hovering over the receiver.

"Pick it up, man." Eli said, looking over his shoulder. "My friend is dying in here."

"Shut up!" Flak shouted. His hand shook nervously, belying his uncertainty about the new developments. "Just give me a minute…" Taking a deep breath, he slowly brought the phone to his ear. "Agent Hotchner." He said, his tone morphing into an oddly assertive voice. "Here's what's going to happen."


	4. Chapter 4

**Just a quick note to all-Thanks for your responses and you readership. I try to update each Friday, but I'm in university so some weeks are busier than others. (But midterm break is coming up! I'll do some more writing then.) Enjoy!**

**Chapter 4 **

"I'm going to instruct my hostages to close the curtains. Then, they are going to walk out the door. You are not going to come in, because I will be holding your agent and Eli. In fifteen minutes, when my SUV is ready, you will call me again. I won't pick up, but that will be the sign for Eli and me to go for a little drive. You will not follow. Is that clear?" Without waiting for a response, he hung up. "Well that was fun, wasn't it?" There was a genuine smile on his face, like he was enjoying the situation before him

His sudden change of demeanor was alarming, and Morgan suspected that he felt completely in control of what was going on, possibly for the first time in his life. "Well you heard me." Flak said. "Close the blinds. All the way, make sure they can't see in." The hostages obeyed at once, desperate to get out. The café was obscured in half-darkness, split by shafts of sunlight. Eli closed the curtain in front of his window in one smooth motion and went to take over for Linnea, putting even more pressure on the bloody towels. She sat back on her heels, wiping her hands on her jeans.

"Hey man. How are you doing?" Eli asked gently, trying to smile despite the fear that Morgan could see dancing in his eyes.

"Good." Morgan choked out. His neck was straining in pain. "Eli…"

"Don't talk, Derek. Just relax. The FBI's going to get us out of here. Your team's the best, remember?" Morgan could see Flak walking over, pressing the barrel of his gun against Eli's neck. The young football player froze, still keeping pressure over the bloody towels. Flak looked around at the hostages, making snap decisions in his head.

"Alright. This is the way it works. You four, on the far left, you go first. Let the door close behind you." The door opened as the hostages stepped out making the chime above the door jingle and jump. "You three next." Flak said, pointing the gun at a group of young girls. They shuddered and opened the door, quickly running out into the street. This dance went on for five minutes, each exit accompanied by the cheery sound of the chimes on the door, until everyone was out but Linnea, Eli, and Morgan. "Linnea." Flak said, walking over. "You're the last one. Eli's going to lock the door behind you."

"Flak, I'm not leaving without them. He's dying." She pleaded. By now, her hands and jeans were covered with Morgan's blood. "I can see that." Flak said, coming up behind her and heaving her to her feet. "But it's time for you to leave."

"Go, Linnea." Morgan rasped. "We'll be okay." She walked out the door, squinting into the bright sunlight. Her steps were loud in the still, dark room, and Morgan could feel the reverberations on the floor where he lay.

She paused to look back over her shoulder, but Flak yelled, "Keep going! Leave!" He turned to Eli. "Lock the door." Eli paused, but Morgan nodded, and Eli went to lock the door.

"We're alone now, Flak." Morgan said. He closed his eyes, concentrating solely on his negotiations. "What now?" Morgan's head spun, even when he didn't move, and although he couldn't feel the pain anymore, he was getting a massive headache.

"Now…" Flak mused. "We create a distraction." He was pacing around the kitchen, examining random tools and appliances. Metal clanged on metal and cupboard doors opened and closed in quick succession, like he was looking for something. "This will work." Flak muttered to himself, just out of Morgan's line of sight.

"Flak, man, what are you doing?" Eli asked. "Just…shut up. Shut up. Be quiet, I have to think."

Eli leaned down, close to Morgan's head. "He's getting chemicals. And, um…a metal cylinder? Like whipped cream?"

"Oh God." Morgan breathed. "He's trying to build a bomb." They were silent for a moment, watching and listening intently as Flak mixing his ingredients. The gun lay next to him on the counter, but not out of his reach. "Eli…" Morgan started quietly, staring into his young eyes. "I am so proud of you, man."

"No, Derek. Don't…you can't….you're not going to die." Eli said, pressing harder against Morgan's side. "Eli, just listen to me. Go to U Maryland, and play the best football you've ever played. You have come so far, and you still have a ways to go."

"Derek…" He pleaded. "Don't give up. You still have time." Tears began to gather in his eyes, and in Morgan's too. "Tell my team that it was…an honor for me to work with them. Tell Penelope that I died thinking of her, and that I love her. And Reid…tell Reid that the only thing I want for him is to stay strong." Eli was listening silently, and Morgan was thinking of everyone he missed. There were too many people to thank and to love, and too little breath to do it. "Take care of Sarah. Check in on my mom sometimes, and my sisters. Tell them I love them, and I am so proud of everything they have done." The tears were falling now, fast and hot. "Promise me, Eli. Promise me."

Eli nodded, slowly finding his voice. "I promise. I got your back, man." They rested silently for a moment.

Morgan tried to lift his head, but it felt like it weighed a million pounds. "What's he doing, Eli? I need specifics. I can't see."

"I can't see the bottles. Something from the stove, I think, and some disinfectant. Bleach, maybe? He looks like he knows…how to make them, like he researched it or something. He just went and got like…tongs or something. He's got matches?"

"Matches?" Morgan's heart skipped a beat. Whatever Flak was planning, it would go boom…big time.

"A whole box. And a lighter….and a clock?" With everything Morgan heard, his heart sank. He had known for a while that he had little to no chance of getting out of here, but now it seemed Eli was joining him. "Flak?' He asked. "Flak, I need you to think about this. Are you really going to kill us? There's more than just our lives at stake right now."

"I'm not going to kill you." He looked at Morgan strangely, then returned to his work. "I told you, this is just a distraction."

"Then why do you need a timer?" Morgan asked, confused. Not much was getting through clearly to his pain-befuddled mind, but one thing he could tell was that Flak genuinely did not want him to die. It was oddly comforting to Morgan, even though he knew that the plan would take a miracle to work. But Flak was confident he could fix the situation.

"See, the timer is to give them time to rescue you. I worked it all out. I'll set the timer, and they'll have time to come in and get you and Eli, but not to dismantle the bomb, so they'll leave me here. But what they don't know is that it's more of a boom than a bang, so I'll have time to get out the back while they are taking cover." He looked up again, and beamed. "Brilliant, huh?"

Morgan only nodded, but he tried to watch his actions carefully. His head was cloudy, and he was beyond cold now…he was numb. The tremors rolled through his body ceaselessly, each time making Morgan clench his fists and purse his lips to keep from screaming. "Flak… can Eli get me another Gatorade?" He managed, breathing shallowly.

"Yeah, sure, I guess." He responded distractedly. He stared eagerly at the device in his hands, rolling it around to make sure the final adjustments were in place.

Morgan tilted his head, and Eli knelt next to it, listening to his soft whispers. "Eli. The fridge is next to the counter. This is important. If, _and only if_, Flak's distracted, go for the gun. If he's watching you in any way, leave it, come back."

"Derek, if I take any pressure off the wound, you're done." His face was set in a determined frown, like he was steeling himself for the long haul.

"I can hold it until you come back. It won't take long." Morgan didn't have the heart to tell him that it probably wouldn't take long either way.

"I don't think I can do it, Derek." For the first time, Morgan heard a small tremble in his voice.

"I'm bleeding out, Eli. I'm not going to make it out if we wait much longer. This is the only chance we get." His weak voice spurred Eli's courage, and he inhaled deeply.

"Okay. I'll go. Give me your hand." He guided Morgan's hand to cover his side, and Morgan pressed as hard as he could. From his vantage on the floor, he could see the entire scene, but he could see enough. Eli took another deep breath as he walked towards the fridge, keeping his eyes straight ahead of him. Morgan prayed desperately in his head, but didn't dare close his eyes. Eli opened the refrigerator door, glancing over the top at the gun laying on the counter. He took out the Gatorade, and walked back towards Morgan. As he reached the counter, though, he reached out his hand, a second after Flak looked up at him. Immediately Flak lunged for the gun too, dropping his contraption on the counter. Morgan could practically see the disaster striking as the parts came loose, liquids pooling together on the counter. And then, with the barreling noise and force of a freight train, an explosion blew through the small restaurant.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Strangely, Morgan never lost consciousness. The explosion shook him, but his beaten body was so numb that it was like swimming underwater, watching the flames blow by above his head. He closed his eyes, but couldn't move, so he just stayed still. When the dust settled, he was trapped. A wooden beam had landed on his legs, and a heavy piece of one of the tables had landed across his chest. The table actually held his limp hand over his side, a blessing in disguise.

Sunlight streamed down through holes in the ceiling, almost blinding him. As his mind processed what had happened, his ears rang with the sound of debris being moved, the screech of metal on metal, but he could detect no sign of human life. "Eli." He whispered. "Eli?"

Hoses were turned loose on the flames by his head, and some of the dirtied water trickled down to pool by Morgan's cheek. The small fire sputtered out before the blaze could reach him, and Morgan lifted his head but could not see the extent of the explosion. "Eli!" He tried again, mustering all his strength. His neck muscles strained as he peered through the rubble, but no response came.

"Morgan?" Hotch's voice punctuated his anxiety. "I've got him!" He yelled, crawling over the rubbish. He knelt down next to Morgan, trying to push the table off of him.

"Leave it." Morgan sputtered. "Stops…bleeding…" But as much as it helped, the weight was heavy on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.

Hotch looked him over, and swallowed thickly. The pool of blood was too large for his liking, and there were scorch marks and more drops of blood on his jeans. Morgan stirred, trying to move his foot, and Hotch stilled it with his hand. "Stay still, Morgan. We're right here." Hotch said, placing a hand on Morgan;s shoulder. He grabbed the beam that had fallen on Morgan's leg and strained to lift it, but it was too awkward for one person to move alone. "I need some help over here!" Hotch yelled. JJ appeared over his shoulder, her small face pale and scared.

"Oh God. Hotch, we need to get him out of here. He's lost too much blood."

A firefighter ran over and helped them shove the beam off Morgan's legs, but he still didn't respond; his panicked mind was consumed with his young friend. "Where's Eli?" He demanded weakly.

"We're working on finding him, Morgan." JJ comforted, running a hand over his forehead. "Just hang in there." She looked up at Hotch. "I'll cover the pressure. Take off the table." Suddenly, the insistent weight was gone, replaced with JJ's strong, soft hands covering his. "You were so great, Morgan." She smiled down on him. "Linnea told us how good you were doing in here, talking him down and everything."

"Was… stupid." Morgan's voice was barely more than a murmur, and his eyes began to flutter closed.

"Hey now." JJ scolded, her voice verging on panic. "Look at me, Morgan, look at me. You're going to be okay. Stay with me." Morgan's eyes roamed around, not able to focus on any one thing. His eyelids closed again, the adrenaline that had kept him alive slowly leaving his body as shock took over.

"Derek, the paramedic's here. You're going to be okay. Just hang on." JJ sat back on her knees, letting the medic take over. She crawled to Morgan's head, laying one hand comfortingly on his cheek as she looked down into his eyes. "Stay right here with me, Morgan."

"I'm sorry, Eli." He whispered. "Tell mama I didn't mean to do it. Eli? Eli…" His eyes shut for a third time, and stayed closed, but he kept mumbling incoherently.

"He's lost too much blood. We need to get him out of here." The medic said, looking around frantically. "I need a backboard and C-collar!" She yelled, and her partner maneuvered them into the small space. "We need you guys to help us lift him. On three…One, two… go!" JJ and Hotch grunted as they lifted Morgan's body, and the slippery blood pooled beneath their feet made it hard for them to keep him still. The paramedics quickly strapped Morgan into the cradle and lifted him out, JJ trailing closely in his wake.

"What hospital?" JJ asked frantically as they slammed the back doors.

"Georgetown U," The medic answered. "Right downtown." The ambulance screamed away, and as JJ watched it go, she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. She turned around to see Reid and Garcia behind her. Their faces were equally worried, even more so when they saw the blood on JJ's hands and blouse. She quickly dried the tears that had fallen down her cheeks and sniffled.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The panic had been s all-consuming; it had occupied every corner of her mind, and now…it was gone. She walked to one of the SUVs, sitting heavily on the back bumper as she tried to regain her focus. "JJ?" Reid asked, his voice tiny.

She looked up, fear crowding her eyes. "He's lost a lot of blood. He…he doesn't look so good." She looked at the blood that coated her hands, and tried to wipe it off on her pants, but there was too much of it. "He's been in there bleeding this whole time." She shook the image out of her head violently, standing up. "We've got work to do." She walked away from them, back towards the building, and Reid followed, leaving Garcia shell-shocked and silent by the car.

Reid jogged a few steps after JJ, catching her arm desperately. "JJ, is he going to be okay?"

"I can't say, Reid. It doesn't look good." She brushed him off, walking around the perimeter. "You're the genius. Do the math. He was in there for two and a half hours, bleeding from a gunshot wound to the torso. The bullet is still in him, so they will have to operate." Her voice was hard; she was trying not to set herself up for disappointment, but her stoicism wasn't helping Reid. He walked away to join Rossi and a crew on the other side of the building, and JJ watched the commotion in the rubble. Medics were carrying away another backboard, bearing the bloody body of Eli Dunn, half covered in a sheet. She watched him pass by, and recognized the young face from a picture on Morgan's desk.

Hotch climbed out of the still-smoking remains of the diner with the stretcher, but came and stood by JJ instead of following it to the ambulance. "How's Morgan?" When she didn't respond, he tried again, tilting his head in confusion. "JJ?"

"Huh?" She looked up, her eyes bright. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"How's Morgan?"

"They took him to Georgetown U. No exit wound, and he lost a lot of blood. They couldn't give me any more than that. How's Eli?"

Hotch hesitated, and he saw the recognizance growing in her eyes. "He and Helmsley were both right next to the bomb when it went off. There was so much shrapnel in their bodies that the medics couldn't even try to resuscitate them."

"No sirens." JJ realized as they pulled the second body out. The gunman was beanpole skinny, and JJ realized off-handedly that he was actually fairly short. Covered in the white sheet, he could easily have been mistaken for a fourteen year old. She turned away from Hotch, putting her hand over her mouth to stop from crying out. Emotion coursed through her thin body as an ugly thought raced through her head that left her breathless.

"JJ?" Hotch asked, putting a hand on her back. He looked over his shoulder to see the entire team watching, and led her away from the public's prying eyes to the back of the decimated building.

She gasped, tears leaking from her eyes. "I can't stop thinking of Henry." The words bubbled out in a rush in between fast, shallow breaths. Hotch could only wait for her panic to subside. "That boy…Eli. He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and Morgan couldn't even protect him. What more could we have done? How am I supposed to keep Henry safe?" She leaned over, putting her hands on her knees. "Morgan grew up with Eli's mother. Eli was someone's son. I just…" She breathed deeply, brushing stray tears off her cheeks.

Hotch closed his eyes for a second as JJ voiced his own deepest fears. He briefly pictured Jack's face, innocent and open. "JJ, go home, and be with Henry for a while. We're pretty much done here, and it will be a while before we can see Morgan anyways."

"No, no. I'm sorry. I'm fine." She straightened up, shaking her head like the episode had passed, but Hotch could see the fear still burning in her eyes.

"JJ, go home. Will's probably wondering you are anyways." They should have been off duty hours ago, and Hotch doubted that any of the team had thought to do anything else after they learned Morgan was inside.

"Where's Jack this weekend?" JJ asked, trying to distract herself as she pulled out her cell.

"He's spending the weekend with his cousins, I was going to visit Beth in New York, but…"

JJ nodded understandingly, pausing for a moment. "I'll see you later, then?"

"I'll meet you at the hospital, and I'll call you if anything happens before then." He saw her hesitate, still lost in the tragedy of the day. Her eyes were red, and Morgan's blood covered her hands and pants. "JJ, just go. Your job here is done. There's nothing else we can do."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Garcia and Alex sat nervously in the waiting room, while Hotch paced in front of them and Rossi leaned wearily against the wall. Reid had gone off to call and check on JJ; the whole team had discreetly watched her breakdown and was concerned about their normally unflappable friend. Garcia's eyes were red, her hand intertwined with Blake's on the arm of the chair. Alex had a pile of papers in her lap, her uncapped red pen lying on top of them, but she had given up on grading them over an hour ago. Hotch's voice was the only one in the room, a rapid-fire conversation that the team had long since demoted to background noise.

Rossi was the first one to see the surgeon walking towards them, and he gently laid a hand on Hotch's shoulder. "Aaron." He said, catching his attention. The one word was swollen with foreboding, and Hotch turned around quickly.

Upon seeing the surgeon, he muttered something into his phones and snapped it shut. He stood next to Rossi, an impenetrable wall ready to face their friend's fate. "Doctor? What is Agent Morgan's condition?" Garcia and Blake stood up and joined the tight circle, desperate for information.

"Agent Morgan came through the surgery fine, but he lost a lot of blood. The bullet chipped his seventh and eighth ribs and stopped in his liver, which sustained enough damage to be concerning, but certainly not life-threatening. We fixed the lacerations in surgery, and the liver has a marvelous way of regenerating itself."

"So he's okay?" Garcia clarified, her face wrinkled with worry.

The surgeon hesitated for a second, but in that moment the team of profilers felt dread settle in their stomachs. "He's not out of the woods yet. It was a grade III injury, so not that serious, but livers bleed more than other organs, and I'm surprised he was even conscious after the blood he lost on scene. We're giving him periodic transfusions, but with this amount of blood loss we have to watch for signs of organ failure." Rossi glanced down at his shoes, breathing deeply, and Garcia looked like she was about to cry again.

Blake drew her tightly to her side and wrapped an arm around her as she asked, "What are the odds of something like that happening?"

"Low," he responded, scratching his head. "We're monitoring him closely, and he's healthy, young, and fit, factors that all work in his favor. We induced a coma for now, so we can watch his levels and keep the pain to a minimum. He'll probably be a bit jaundiced in the next couple of days, but that's normal in someone with liver damage, so don't be concerned."

"And the other injuries he sustained?" Hotch asked.

The doctor looked down his checklist, ticking things off on his fingers as he said them. "A couple of small wounds from shrapnel, and a fracture in his tibia from the debris. Various lacerations. But nothing too serious."

"Can we see him?" Garcia asked, finding a tiny voice inside herself.

"Agent Morgan is up in ICU, and I recommended that there only be one or two visitors until his condition improves."

"And when will that be?" Rossi asked.

"It's too early to tell. We'll reevaluate him every hour, and keep you up to date on his condition. Now, I'm sorry, but I have another surgery to prepare for."

"Thank you, doctor." Hotch said quickly, and the man nodded, striding away quickly. "I'll go find Reid." Hotch said, and he too walked away. But before he could leave the room, a middle-aged woman stopped him, her eyes wide and fearful.

"Agent Hotchner?" The woman was skinny, in an unhealthy way, like she hadn't eaten in days. Her second-hand clothes hung off her thin frame, and her blonde hair hung limp and dull. "My name is Celia Helmsley. Did something happen to my son?" She faced the room of agents, whose expressions ranged from agner to pity at the sound of her name.

"Please, come with me, Ms. Helmsley." Hotch said professionally, ushering her into a small room down the hallway. He looked over his shoulder at the group behind him who were sitting back down in their chairs dejectedly. "There's something I need to tell you."

* * *

Reid and Garcia stood at the doorway to Morgan's room, silhouetted in the glaring lights of the hallway. "He looks so sad." Garcia whispered, taking another tiny step into the room. "Doesn't he? Something about his face…"

"I don't think I've ever seen Morgan this still." Reid commented. He closed the door behind him and walked over to an easy chair in the corner of the room and sat down stiffly.

Garcia nodded in agreement. "Even when he's asleep, he never stops twisting and turning." She pulled another chair up next to the bed and sat down, laying her head on the sheets next to Morgan's still arm. Cut off from the bustle of the hallway, the room was eerily silent, and neither of them could think of something to say. Garcia's usually cheery optimism was buried beneath layers of fear that she just couldn't shake. It was like this when any of her team members were in the hospital…which wasn't all that rare. Her mind would race at first, desperate for information, but soon enough those feelings would ebb away, leaving a crushing fear behind as she waited for news.

Situations like this couldn't be fixed with her technology; her team couldn't be healed by optimism alone. So she did the one thing that she could: wait. Waiting was her specialty in times like these; she was used to waiting alone in the office for her team to come back from the field, or waiting to hear news about someone else's family, someone else's friends, someone else's social life as she explored the depths of her computers. But this situation, this was different.

This was Morgan, her Morgan, her best friend Morgan. He had been her sun since the day they met, and she had never been able to imagine life without him. She still couldn't. Morgan had always been invincible, her rock in whatever life through at them. And in three short hours, he had come undone.

* * *

Reid was angry. He was angry at David Helmsley, who decided to settle an argument with a gun, and then to fix that mistake with a bomb. He was angry at society, for making the boy think that it was alright. He was angry with the police, whose reluctance to call the FBI could have gotten Morgan killed, and still might for all they know. He was angry at Hotch, for not doing his job and talking Helmsley down. He was angry at the doctors, who couldn't fix Morgan despite their years of knowledge and training.

He was angry at Morgan. His best friend, his brother, and his surrogate father all in one. Morgan, who taught him how to shoot. Morgan, who introduced him to girls. Morgan, who was there for him at his lowest points. Morgan, who was unbreakable.

Suddenly, Reid couldn't be in the room anymore. He stood up with a force that knocked the recliner against the wall, and strode out of the room before Garcia could see the tears falling fast and furious down his pale cheeks. "Reid?" She asked, her voice puzzled. He was gone before it registered.

He stalked the hallways of the hospital, from oncology to maternity to orthopedics, until finally he ended up in the waiting room of the ER, reading magazine after magazine while sitting next to an ever-changing group of wounded, hurting people just like him. Every couple of minutes, he felt his cell phone buzz insistently in his pocket, but he ignored it. It vibrated again, and Reid took it out to see nine missed calls from JJ and Hotch. He shut it down, the finality of his actions reassuring.

"Excuse me?" Reid looked up to see a nurse standing front of him, a middle-aged woman wearing mint green scrubs. "Are you waiting to see a doctor?"

"No." Reid said, looking back down at the magazine in front of him. Belatedly, he realized it was a women's magazine, opened to a spread about decorations and flower arrangements. He discarded it, folding his hands over his chest. "I'm fine."

"Are you waiting for someone?" She asked, trying to reason through the situation in her mind.

"In a way." Reid answered, examining her anxious face. "You could say that."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"There you are!" The sound of Blake's loud, relieved voice knocked Reid out of his reverie and drew the stares of some of the others in the waiting room. She strode over to him, making note of the magazines piled around him. "Reid, I've been looking for you everywhere. Your phone must have died."

"I turned if off." He said shortly, standing up. "What do you need?"

Blake took a step back, taking in his surly attitude. "JJ's here." She said quietly. "She wanted to see you. She feels bad about…earlier. At the scene."

"Tell her that she doesn't need to apologize, I understand." He sat back down, glancing at his watch. "How's Morgan?"

"The same. And you're going to tell her, not me." Her voice was firm, and she sternly grabbed his arm to pull him to his feet.

"Stop!" Reid said angrily, jerking away from her grip. "Just…just…leave me alone!" More tears began to trickle down his cheeks, and Blake cleared off the chair next to him, sitting down and taking his hands.

"Reid? Talk to me." Her earnest brown eyes bored into his, and he hiccupped. He took a deep breath, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his button down shirt.

"It's Morgan. There's never been a moment when he's not...there. After Hankel, when we thought Emily was dead, after Maeve…He's always texting me, or stopping by my place. We've known each other for twelve years." Blake listened quietly, letting him go on. "And now this. I'm… stuck between confusion, and fear…and he's the only one I want to talk to."

"The only one?" Blake asked probingly. "Not JJ, not Hotch?"

"I said want, not can." Surliness crept back into his tone, and Blake shut her mouth. "I just want to be alone right now."

"How about being alone…with us?" Reid was taken aback by the paradoxical suggestion, but didn't respond. "Hear me out," Alex continued. "We're worried about you. We're worried about Morgan, about JJ, about Garcia… Just come sit with the team, be with us. We'll leave you alone." He sat resiliently mute, and Alex pressed on. "Morgan deserves to have his friends by his side." She knew it was a low blow, and he did too, but it worked.

"I just…I can't." Reid said flatly. He stared over Blake's shoulder, focusing on the blank wall behind her. Even surrounded by strangers, he felt like the world was pressing in on him, like he was in a shrinking bubble. "I can't stay in that room. It's not Morgan. I just…I…I'm scared." He looked to her for understanding, and she nodded once. "I can't face it. It's not Morgan."

She gently snaked her arm over his shoulder and he accepted it, even leaning into her slightly. His shoulders curved into the bow of her arm, and his back hunched, like he was falling in on himself. They sat like that for a few minutes, but were interrupted by Blake's ringing cell phone. She pulled away, standing up and walking a few steps away until she answered. "Yeah, I found him." She said quietly. "We're okay. Just give us a few minutes, and we'll join you." She turned away so Reid couldn't hear her. "He just wants to talk to someone, but that someone happens to be Morgan. Yes, I'll get him upstairs. See you soon." She walked back to Reid, who despite her best efforts had heard the whole conversation.

"It's time to go." He said to himself, looking up. "Yup. We should go." He looked at the magazines scattered around him and stacked them into an impeccably neat pile before grabbing his bag and fiddling with the strap.

"Reid…" Blake chided gently.

"Sorry." He said, shaking his head. "Let's go." They walked through a maze of hallways until they got to the elevator bank, and Reid fidgeted nervously as they waited for the doors to open. They waited in silence, and they were the only ones in the carriage as it ascended the floors. The silence was oddly comforting to Reid; it was what he had been craving for the past couple of hours. Silence, but also…companionship.

JJ was waiting as they stepped off the elevator, and immediately she embraced Reid tightly. Reid didn't relax into the hug, but looked expressionlessly over her shoulder at the rest of the team. JJ let go, and stepped back, getting a good look at him. He didn't look too bad, at least not any worse than she herself did, she reasoned. "Hey. I'm so sorry. You okay?" She asked in a whisper.

"I'm good." He breathed back, walking past her towards the rest of the group. "Any change?"

"No news yet." Hotch responded, deciding to discuss Reid's disappearance at a later time. "Rossi, were you able to get a hold of Eli's mother?"

"She's on her way down from Chicago, with Morgan's mom and his sister Desiree." Rossi said grimly. "That should be a fun car ride." He didn't smile, and no one else did either. "They're arriving later this evening."

"Has anyone called Emily?" Reid asked out of the blue. "She and Morgan text each other almost every day." They looked around guiltily, no one had even thought of contacting her. Reid sighed scathingly, turning away from the team again. "I'll call her, then."

"Reid, I got it." Hotch said quickly. "Just stay here." He laid a hand on Reid's shoulder, feeling the tense, stringy muscle beneath it, and the slight reflexive twitch when his hand made contact. "I'll call her. What time is it in London right now?"

"Almost four am." Reid responded automatically. "Call her. She'll want to know."

"I'm going to, Reid." The edge of annoyance in Hotch's voice was the only indicator of the toll this was taking on him; he had stayed stoic and strong through the entire ordeal. His bloodstained and dirty shirt from the scene had been discarded; Hotch had re-knotted his tie at the throat of a clean shirt and reassumed his authority. As he walked away from the team into an empty hallway, he released a large breath. Leaning heavily against the wall, he pulled out his cell phone. He still hadn't taken her bureau phone off his speed dial, and he remembered a second too late that she had gotten a new number. Scrolling through his contacts, he finally found her British number.

It rang twice before she answered. Her voice was foggy and confused, but also charged with apprehension. "Hotch? What's going on?"

He took a deep breath. "Sorry to wake you, Emily, but we thought you ought to know. Morgan was in an explosion this morning. He's in the hospital right now, stable but comatose."

"What?" Hotch could picture her panic-stricken face as the news broke her sleepy stupor. "I mean, what happened?"

He groaned tiredly. "Morgan was eating lunch with his friend's son, who was down from Chicago, and another boy came in and started shooting. We think Morgan got hit by a ricochet."

"Wait, he was shot too?" Emily asked.

"Yes, that's what set the unsub off. We think he was panicking because of Morgan. We don't know why the kid was building a bomb, but bomb squad thinks it was accidental. Morgan was trapped in the explosion, and it took a while to get him out."

"And the unsub?" She asked quietly.

"DOA." Hotch said heavily. "And the boy that Morgan was eating with, Eli Dunn."

"Why did he even start shooting?" She asked. Hotch heard muted beeping from her end, and she groaned. "And there's my alarm."

"As far as we can tell, one of the cashiers had dumped him, and from the witness accounts, he was on some sort of drugs. Probably cocaine. He reacted violently when she tried to reason with him."

There was silence as she processed it, but Hotch could feel her presence on the other end of the line. "What's going on with Morgan?" She finally asked. "You said he's in a coma?"

"Medically induced." Hotch corrected. "He lost a lot of blood, and they want to keep him stable until they know for sure that there's no organ damage. The doctors are cautiously optimistic, but they won't give us a sure answer."

"Covering their asses." She remarked disdainfully. But Hotch could feel her masking the worry; he could hear her consciously evening her breath on the other side of the line. "But it's possible? That he could have organ damage?"

"It's possible." He admitted. "The bullet was buried in his liver, which caused even more bleeding. All we can do is wait until his blood levels are back to normal." He stared at the wall in front of him, counting the scuffs at hip level, where gurneys had careened down the corridor. It was empty now, but it still seemed to hold the weight of the past traffic. He rubbed his forehead, exhaling deeply.

"I can fly in later today, Hotch. I just need to turn my cases over and make sure some meetings are covered." She sounded preoccupied, and despite the circumstances, Hotch grinned.

"You're turning into quite the bureaucrat." He commented. "You know, Emily, you don't need to drop everything to come here. We're all here for him."

"He'd do the same for me." Emily said, still distracted by the hassles on her side of the ocean. "I'll see you in….about ten hours. Let me know if anything changes."

"Will do. I'll see you soon." He flipped his phone shut, and tilted his head back against the cool tile wall. He could feel his eyes closing, the emotional and physical toll of the day finally catching up with him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

As the next morning dawned, most of the team hadn't moved from their spots the night before. Garcia was still in Morgan's room, snoring gently in the recliner. Rossi and Hotch had gone to a nearby hotel, but neither one of them had ended up sleeping much. Blake and Reid were in the waiting room of the hospital, snoozing peacefully despite the chatter and rush of the early morning staff. JJ was the only one awake, as she had given up on sleep hours ago. Her eyes roamed restlessly, not really seeing, as she was consumed in her thoughts. She stared at Reid, who had nodded off against Blake's shoulder. Alex's hand still marked her page in the book on her lap, but she had fallen asleep too, her head drooping against the wall behind her.

JJ stood up and began to pace around the cramped room, cracking her back as she did so. The devastation of the afternoon had put her optimism on hold; she was waiting for at least a bit good news before allowing her hope came out in full force. After a few rounds, she sat back down, putting her head in her hands. As she massaged her temples, she heard footsteps behind her, and a familiar voice made her look up. "Need some coffee?"

Immediately, her heart lightened. "Emily," she exhaled, flying into her friend's waiting arms. The two women held each other closely, each taking on the other's doubts and fears. Emily could feel JJ relax in her arms, tension draining from her shoulders, and felt JJ's head drop onto her shoulder.

"How's he doing?" Emily asked quickly, handing JJ a tall, steaming latte as she took in her friend's bedraggled appearance and the sleeping agents before her. "Did you stay here all night?"

"Yeah, we did. There's no change, they're going to reevaluate him in a couple of hours when his doctor returns." She yawned, sitting down and patting the seat next to her for Emily. "All we can do is wait for him to wake up."

"JJ, when was the last time you slept?"

"I couldn't. I was just too worried about him." She took a sip and grimaced at the scalding hot liquid. Motioning to Reid across from her, she added in a low voice, "He's not taking this well either."

"What do you mean?" Emily said in a low voice, scrutinizing Reid's slumped body even closer. She couldn't see anything especially different about him, but then again, Reid had always had a talent for hiding his inner self from the rest of the team.

"He's angry." JJ stated simply. "He told Blake that the only person he wanted to talk to was Morgan." Her voice was sad, and Emily saw her shoot a tender, motherly glance towards his still form.

"Well, maybe he'll talk to me." She said, standing up and walking over to him. Shrugging her shoulders, she laid a hand on his upper arm. As soon as she touched the soft cotton of his shirt, he woke up, looking around wildly. "Hey…Hey Reid, it's me." His brown eyes opened wider, as though he couldn't believe what was actually before his tired eyes.

"Emily!" He exclaimed, springing up and wrapping his thin arms around her. They were both grinning widely, but JJ thought she could see a tear dripping down Emily's cheeks. She was like a breath of fresh air for the team, a reminder of times past, but JJ knew her better. It had to be hard for her to come back, especially in this situation. The team had gone on to live their lives without her, and Emily knew that things had changed.

"Hey, take it easy. I'm sure that I'll be here for a while." She laughed, letting him go.

"Hopefully Morgan will wake up soon and you won't have to be here for too long." Alex chimed in, standing up and stretching. "You must be Agent Prentiss." The two women appraised each other for a moment before sharing an unsure smile.

"Please, call me Emily." she replied, holding out her hand. "And you must be Dr. Blake."

"Alex," she replied diplomatically. "It's good to meet you, but I wish it was under different circumstances. Morgan will be glad you're here." It was odd for both women to be so closely linked, but at the same time, to be such strangers. Blake had replaced Emily, falling into all of her old routines and relationships. She sat on the empty spot on the jet, occupied the empty desk, took the empty seat at the roundtable.

The group shared an awkward moment before Reid stood and stretched. "What time is it?"

"Six am. For the second time today." Emily said drily. She seemed to remember why she had crossed seven time zones, and she hesitated. "Can I…see him?"

"Garcia's in there now." JJ replied, sitting back down. "She hasn't left his side. But I'm sure she would love to see you." She walked Emily down the hallway to the doorway, squeezing her hand reassuringly as they arrived. "I'm so glad you came." JJ admitted softly. "It's been so long since we saw you last."

"You guys are still my second family." Emily replied softly. "You would do this for me in a heartbeat." She took a deep breath as JJ walked away, and gently turned the doorknob. For a moment, she ignored the still form covered in sheets and her eyes found Garcia, sleeping in the recliner. The tech was wearing her typical bright colors, but the clothing was rumpled and she had removed her earrings, leaving the sparkling chandeliers on the bedside table next to her cat-eye glasses. "Garcia." Emily whispered, gently shaking her shoulders. "Penelope! Wake up!"

Slowly, her eyes opened, confused at the blurry shapes in front of her. She put on the glasses that Emily handed her, and immediately a smile split across her face. "Em!" She stood up and enveloped Emily in her ample arms, in the type of bear hug that only Garcia could give. Emily allowed herself to break down for a minute, to experience the emotion that was welling up inside of her. She wiped away a singular tear that had found its way down her cheek.

"Garcia, can I have some time with him?" Emily walked over to the side of the bed, touching his hand gently. Her eyes were drawn to his massive frame, which seemed to take up the entire bed, enveloped in a perfectly still sheet.

"Oh, honey, of course. I'll be outside with the team." Emily heard Garcia pull the door shut behind her with a thud, and the room fell into a dusty darkness. Garishly bright screens tracked every aspect of the thread of life that he clung to, and Emily felt a profound sadness. She had been where he was now, not dying, but not living either. She slid her small hand into Morgan's and was surprised at how warm it was. Not that she was expecting it to be cold…but in the deepest recesses of her mind, it was almost like he was…even when asleep, he had never been this still.

An undercurrent of electric buzz was the only noise in the room, and Emily felt like tiptoeing as she walked further in. The silence was unnatural, and its oppressing nothingness engulfed her as she sat down. Every twitch, every breath was amplified, and Emily could practically feel the world freezing around her, as if someone had pressed pause on her life, but allowed her to keep moving.

"Hey, Derek." His name sounded odd on her lips. "So, I heard you got shot…and then blown up?" Teasing laughter found its way into her voice. "One or the other wasn't good enough for you, huh? Had to go and do it all." She finally looked at his face, peppered with small cuts and bruises. His lips were paler than normal, and he looked gaunt…or maybe that had happened in the time since he and Garcia had visited her in England. She stroked his arm delicately, feeling the seemingly impenetrable muscle beneath it. Her voice no more than a whisper, she spoke into the empty space. "Why? Why do you think he did it?" Leaning back into the chair, she took in the entirety of his powerful body. "And why you?"

She sat with him for nearly half an hour, watching the controlled movement of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled. The sun began to rise in the window behind her, washing the room in dim light as it peeked out from behind the dark horizon. "I miss you guys every day, you know." Her voice was lost in the empty room, lost in the whispering of the many machines with glowing screes and gauges. "I think about every one of you, every day. Work is just work there, and it's true what they say…it's lonely at the top. My coworkers are my subordinates, not my friends."

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. "Not that I don't have friends in London. I have friends." She said matter-of-factly. "I have long hours. You know how it is." She sighed, standing and looking out the window at the city sprawled beneath her. "No one is a Vonnegut fan like you, though." She smiled to herself for a moment, then frowned again. "Come on, Morgan." She leaned forward to lay her hand on his arm again, and the leaned on the edge of the bed. "I came all this way, just to see you…and I have to say, you're disappointing me." Another tear slipped out of her eye, and she quickly brushed it away. "Wake up for me, Morgan. Just for a minute, to tell me you'll be okay." She closed her eyes, focusing all her energy on Morgan's broken body, and her pleading was barely more than a whisper. "Please."


	9. Chapter 9

**So sorry for the late upload-I kept receiving an error message from the site. Happy Easter! -Flynn Writer**

**Chapter 9**

Ten minutes later, a soft knock on the door forced Emily to her feet. Rossi poked his head through the crack in the door, smiling as he saw Emily. Emily smiled too, but it didn't quite eliminate the sadness in her eyes. Rossi beckoned for her to come outside, and embraced her as soon as she joined the door closed behind her. "Good to see you again, Emily."

"You too, Dave." She said, seeing Hotch out of the corner of her eye. "Hey Hotch." She hugged him quickly too, but let go as a doctor approached the team. The entire team seemed to stop breathing as the man approached, and his stern, middle-aged face didn't give away any information.

"Doctor Scott," Hotch said formally. "How is he?"

"About as well as what can be expected." The man responded, checking through a stack of papers on his clipboard. He pushed his glasses onto the bridge of his nose as he scanned through the information. "I had told you that we had to keep an eye out for organ failure…his spleen shows signs of blood deprivation, which obviously isn't good. Normally, the spleen holds a blood reserve, but that was exhausted when he was brought in. Our main concern right now is rehabilitating that supply, and making sure his iron and antibody levels are normal."

"What does that mean for him?" Blake asked tentatively. "When is he going to wake up?"

"Again, we want to keep him as still as possible until his internal injuries heal. His liver is also not healing at the rate we would expect, but that is less serious than it sounds. For now, maybe a couple of hours until we can retest."

"And the bullet's entrance wound?" Hotch asked. He had dropped the ball when he lost control of the negotiation, but he wouldn't gamble with Morgan's well–being again. A flashback of the blast blazed in front of his eyes, the explosion ripping through his mind as powerfully as it had in reality. He was snapped out of his reverie by the doctor's words.

"Healing quite well, actually." The doctor responded. "I didn't see any signs of infection, and the stiches are holding nicely. His ribs are doing well too. Those will take a while, he's injured them before, but they are in a good spot to heal correctly. We'll keep an eye out for splintering, but by keeping him comatose…well, he's not moving around much."

"Thank you doctor." Hotch finished, dismissing him. "You said a few hours?"

"I'll be back to check on him at noon. We'll see what happens then." With a firm nod, he turned smartly on his heel and began to walk away. The team looked at each other, not sure how to respond, until Emily stepped in front of the group.

"So what happened?" She asked directly, her dark eyes sad. "The whole story. I mean….how?"

JJ sat down heavily in one of the chairs and started speaking. "He had gone to meet with Eli, who was going to sign with U Maryland. As far as we know, Helmsley walked in, shot one of the waitresses, and then took everyone hostage. They panicked, he fired, and Morgan got hit, along with one other woman, who was probably dead moments later." She yawned widely, and Rossi took over the story.

"Local police called us an hour later when they identified his badge number through the window. Morgan had already lost a lot of blood; he was almost unconscious. Hotch tried negotiating, but Helmsley figured that he could distract us with a bomb and get out of the restaurant."

"But he ended up killing himself instead." Emily said, anger hardening her voice. "Four people dead. And Morgan…"

"Morgan is going to be okay." Blake interjected. "We can't give up on him."

"No one's giving up on him." Emily responded icily. "I was just saying that Helmsley's actions had consequences."

"I was not disagreeing with you." Blake responded evenly. They stared at each other warily across the small circle, and everyone else watched them uneasily. Emotions in the room fluxed with every breath as the worry that they all felt was countered by their exhaustion. JJ looked up, catching Emily's eye and cocking her head to draw her over. Emily sat down next to her and JJ patted her leg comfortingly.

Hotch looked at his watch regretfully. "I need to get back to Quantico to update Cruz and figure out the paperwork for all of this." Rossi picked up his discarded coat as if to follow him, but Hotch waved him down. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. Stay here for him; if I need one of you I'll call. I'll try to make sure we don't pick up any new cases, but I can't guarantee anything." He looked like he wanted to say more, but he shrugged and walked out.

"Some things never change." Emily said, breaking the ice in the room. She looked around at the faces of her old team, which she had only scene across video screens for the past couple of months.

"Some things do." Rossi responded, a cheeky smile on his face. "I heard you're becoming quite the bureaucrat. Taking Interpol by storm."

"Hotch said the same thing." She laughed. "It's not that bad. Definitely different, but not bad."

"Aw, guys, she actually misses us." JJ jested, gently leaning into Emily's shoulder. Emily wrapped an arm around her, squeezing her close. It had been awhile since she had gotten hugged, and she didn't usually realize how much she had missed it. She did not typically search out hugs, but the comfort that a friendly embrace can bring is much-needed every once in a while.

"I miss you guys so much. The people I work with…well, understand this: I'm not English so my social credibility is null. They respect my profiling skills, but the atmosphere there…It's not the BAU." She smiled as she said it, but the stress was evident on her face. She tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear, leaning back in the chair.

"Well, no matter the circumstances, we're glad you're here Em." Rossi said.

"Yeah…the circumstances." She repeated ruefully. "I wish I could have visited before…before all of this happened."

"It's not like you dropped off the face of the earth." Rossi said, sitting down on Emily's other side. He patted her leg comfortingly. "You guys talk almost every day."

"I've just… The office had been busy lately. I was going to come back for Christmas, but my mom was in London…we just stayed there." She babbled defensively, throwing out excuses like shields. "And then I had this big case in February, and then…then this."

"Emily, you don't need excuses." JJ said, rubbing her back. "We know. Morgan knows." Emily leaned back in the chair, rubbing the tension out of her neck.

"Yeah." She agreed slowly. "Yeah, I know. I'm just…"

"Tired?" Reid suggested.

"Stressed?" Rossi said at the same time.

Emily sighed thoughtfully, thinking for a minute. She stared into the distance, her eyes glued to the opposite wall. "Lonely." she decided. "I'm surrounded by people every day, and that's all I can think of. Just…lonely. I miss you guys, but I miss the city too. Just the feel of Quantico, and DC…I'm not the one with the odd accent here…" She chuckled bitterly. "But that's the price you pay for power." Her cynicism was not lost on the others, who exchanged worried glances.

"I thought you said the Interpol job was going well?" Reid said, slowly measuring her tone.

"Oh, the job's fantastic." Emily affirmed again. "But it takes me out of the country too much. I can't form meaningful relationships with anyone other than the barista that gets me coffee every morning at 4 am."

"Well, it's a start." Rossi said jovially, but his words fell on practically deaf ears. Somewhat dejected, he picked up a magazine he had found. "I'm going to sit with Morgan. When you guys are a bit more optimistic, you can join us." He walked out of the room, leaving his downcast friends behind. They were starting to get to him.


	10. Chapter 10

A couple of hours later, the Morgan caravan arrived. "Agent Hotchner." Fran Morgan's voice was both authoritative and scared, and the team stood immediately, lost for words. Morgan's sister and Sarah Dunn trailed behind her, both looking a bit shell shocked. Sarah's face was devoid of emotion as Desiree slid an arm around her shoulders, supporting her.

"Mrs. Morgan. Please, sit down." Hotch gestured to a chair, but the older woman stayed standing, her spine straight and tight.

"I'd like to see my son, please," She responded quickly. Although was trying to keep her voice flat, it wobbled a bit at the end of the sentence. Mrs. Morgan was a strong woman, but one who had always depended on her son. She hugged her purse to tightly her chest like it was her lifeline as JJ stepped forward and hugged her, and quickly stepped back when she let go. "Where is he?"

"I'll take you to him." Rossi said quietly, waving down the hallway. "Garcia's with him right now. She's barely left his side." Fran and Desiree followed him down the hallway, but Sarah Dunn stayed by the team. Her jacket and clothes were classy, but the edges were frayed with frequent wear and her leather boots were salt-stained from the mucky Chicago streets. Her young face seemed to sag with exhaustion that went beyond a simple lack of sleep, and her mascara had been cried off a long time ago, judging by the redness of her eyes. Even though none of the agents knew her personally, her connection to their colleague and friend seemed to magnify her grief.

"Ms. Dunn? I'm so sorry about your son. He was a wonderful young man." Blake paused for a moment, but Sarah didn't show any signs that she had heard. Nothing seemed right to express the sorrow they all felt, nothing they could say would fill the gaping hole. For a rare moment, the linguist was at a loss for words. The rest of the team could not find anything to say either, even the usually composed Hotch was silent. Slowly, Sarah found the composure she had left and looked up at the strangers in front of her.

"Could you…Could I see…Eli?" Her voice was low and still choked with unshed tears, but she was regained the characteristic strength that comes from growing up in the slums of Chicago. She stood up and played with a stray thread on her jacket, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Of course." Hotch answered gently, shrugging into his spotlessly black suit jacket. "It's just this way." They walked in silence down the semi-deserted corridor as she sniffled, wiping her eyes again on her coat sleeve. They arrived at a nondescript door, marked only by a small plaque reading "Morgue". They both reached for the handle and paused awkwardly, neither of them wanting to actually open the door. Hotch grabbed it and pushed it open for her, following her into the small hallway. It was brightly lit and smelled faintly of a tropically breezy air-freshener that failed at distracting them from the death surrounding them from all sides.

Blake had called ahead for them, so the coroner was waiting with Eli's sheet-covered body when they arrived, his middle-aged face arranged into a grimly distant expression. The white sheet was draped over Eli's tall frame, peaking over his head and feet. Sarah inhaled deeply, briefly closing her eyes. "Do it." She whispered, and Hotch nodded to the coroner, who delicately pulled the sheet from Eli's head. For the first time, Hotch saw first-hand the damage that Helmsley's bomb had done. A long abrasion stretched across Eli's closely-shaved head, spanning the length of his cheek as well. His face was swollen and marked with scratches and scrapes from shrapnel, but it was peaceful in the stillness of death. There were blisters and discolorations where the flames had exploded directly next to him, leaving his upper torso disfigured.

Sarah gently reached out and stroked Eli's undamaged cheek, and floated her fingertips over his eyes. Death had created a distance between them, never again would she be able to hug her son, or talk to him. The sorrowful intimacy made Hotch take a step back into the shadows, allowing the woman a moment with her dead son. The emotion was palpable, and Hotch swallowed back his own sorrow as he flashed back to his wife's death, to an image of her body lying lifelessly as he stood by. He could remember the smoothness of her dead hand, not cold yet but not warm by any means. He pulled himself together and watched Sarah Dunn curiously. She had begun crying, but they were silent tears; her wailing had been quieted in the hours prior.

The minutes dragged on, but Hotch could not interrupt her silent reverie, nor could she pull herself away from her son. They stood waiting, until the coroner gently touched the sheet at Eli's chest, waiting for silent permission to cover him up again. Sarah nodded, the tears falling faster as she touched her son's hand for the last time. The coroner stepped back to the cupboards and grabbed a small paper bag, handing it to her. "His personal effects, ma'am." The man murmured, a sympathetic look in his eyes. She cradled the bag in her arms, a poor substitute for what she was missing. She turned to Hotch and he led her out the door, pausing as she turned around to say one last goodbye. As they walked away, she dried her tears on the back of her hand.

"Are you alright?" Hotch asked, authentic concern evident in his voice. He led her to a small reception area and sat her down, away from the hubbub of the rest of the hospital.

Her voice shook as she answered. "He was so young." She closed her eyes and seemed to deflate, dry sobs seizing her body. "He was going…to college…wanted to be…a teacher." She leaned heavily into Hotch's side, and he wrapped an arm around the woman, swallowing images of his own son, who earlier that same week had told Hotch that he wanted to be a teacher. Jack seemed to be growing up before his eyes, and Hotch closed his eyes quickly, consciously struggling to keep his son's face off of Eli's still body in his thoughts.

* * *

Rossi let the women into Morgan's room, and as Garcia excused herself, she and Rossi could see the tears begin to fall down Mrs. Morgan's cheeks. Rossi shut the door gently behind them, and turned back down the hall to rejoin Blake, Emily, JJ, and Reid. Garcia was finished crying, but she had not yet regained the strength to give off her normally radiant smile. Rossi stopped her clacking steps with a gentle hand on her wrist, and looked into her eyes. "He's going to be alright, you know," he said reassuringly.

"He's the strongest man I know," Garcia replied openly. She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, allowing the air to flow through her lungs as thoughts tumbled through her head. "What Reid was saying earlier? It makes so much sense. The one person I want to talk to about this more than anyone in the world is lying in the hospital bed in there."

"But unlike Reid, you can talk to just about anyone." Rossi's comment pulled a small smile to her lips, and he guided her in the other direction down the hallway. "You heard what the doctor said. Morgan's chances are good. And he's a fighter."

"With everything he's been through…" Garcia trailed off, thinking. "And he's so optimistic, all the time. Whatever's wrong, it's like…he walks in and it's fixed. He's a rock."

"He's had a lot to overcome." Rossi agreed. He stopped walking and, facing Garcia, took her shoulders in his weathered hands. "But he isn't lost. That's what you have to remember. Morgan's not going to be the same when he comes out of this, but he'll still be Morgan." She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes as a solitary tear dripped down her cheek. Rossi pulled her into a comforting hug, like a father would a daughter. "We just need to trust that everything will be alright. Time heals all wounds."

"You're not Chaucer." Garcia said semi-jokingly. She pulled away, drying the lone tear with her shirt sleeve.

"But I have his wisdom." Rossi explained, turning her around and striding back down the corridor. "And I have more than enough experience."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Hours later, the only ones left in the hospital were Reid, Emily, JJ, and the Morgans. Hotch and Blake had returned to their families in DC, and Rossi and Garcia had taken Sarah Dunn and gone to the hotel to sleep for the first time in almost 48 hours. Reid and Emily were deep in conversation about some of her cases at Interpol, as JJ listened idly and stared at the clock across the room, begging the seconds to speed up. It was around seven pm; she had been sitting there since the phone call with Will a couple of hours earlier. The doctor had retested Morgan at noon and then again at four, and although he seemed optimistic, Morgan remained comatose. Desiree and Fran had not left Morgan's side since they arrived the whole time.

She resurfaced at the sound of insistent rumbling coming from Reid's stomach. He blushed. "Sorry."

Emily and JJ chuckled, and then Emily's growled too. "Dinner time?" Emily asked the group. Reid nodded eagerly, but JJ shook her head.

"I picked up a snack earlier, I'm fine." They grabbed their things and began to leave before Reid turned around. "We should ask Fran and Desiree. They probably haven't eaten since they got here."

They walked towards the room and came out a couple of minutes later with a tired-looking yet stoic Desiree and Fran. "JJ?" Fran's voice was hoarse, whether from tears or something else JJ did not know. "Will you stay with him? I just...I don't want him to be alone."

"Of course!" She readily agreed. If it were her son lying in the bed, she would've had a hard time pulling herself away even to eat. "Take all the time you need, you have my word that I won't leave him." She stood up and stretched, laying a soft hand on Fran's broad shoulders. "I'll head in there now."

"Thanks JJ." Desiree murmured, accepting a hug as JJ passed by.

"You guys go out for a bite to eat. We'll both be here when you get back." With that, she walked down the hallway, mentally preparing herself to open the door. Although she had glanced in on him when she first got to the hospital, ever since then she had been in a constant state of harried activity, whether it be comforting one of her team members, running to get coffee, or pursuing various nurses for reports. It was not that she was avoiding him, per say, it was more that there were things to do that nobody else was up to doing.

As she reached the door, she drew in a long breath. She cracked it open, watching the small beam of light break its way through the soft, warm glow from a solitary lamp at Morgan's bedside. The only noise other than her quiet footsteps was the sound of mechanized breathing, a steady pattern of the small tubes in his nose pumping in oxygen and his perfectly regulated exhalations. She could see the sunset out the partially open curtains, and wondered wistfully how long it had been since she had been outside. Two days? Three? She had brought her laptop with so she could work, and she called home every couple of hours to check in on Henry and update Will.

Leaning back in the well-worn easy chair next to the hospital bed, she allowed herself to breathe. She swiveled the chair around so she could watch the sunset and keep an eye on Morgan, then settled back and let her thoughts fade away. The vivid hues stretched limitlessly out the corners of the window, and JJ spent her time trying to find every single color hidden in the broad stripes. The brilliance permeated her body, bringing her a sort of peace that she hadn't felt in days. She closed her eyes, the ghost of a smile on her face.

About an hour later, something interrupted JJ's reverie. Her eyes opened gently to see that the sun had set, but that was not it…there was a change, somehow. She swiveled back around to face Morgan, but he was still. She listened carefully, and finally found what she was looking for. His breathing was a hitch faster, barely noticeable if you had not been listening to it for the past hour. "Derek?" She whispered. "Can you hear me?" She was examining every inch of him, and she grabbed his hand, holding it tightly. Slowly, her expectant excitement transformed into disappointment, and she settled back into her chair. "You're imagining things, Jennifer." She muttered to herself, massaging her temples with her hands.

Suddenly, she heard it again. A change in his breathing-small, but noticeable. Her own heart began to beat faster, and she sank down to her knees next to the bed, laying a hand on Derek's shoulder. "Morgan? It's JJ. I'm right here." She said firmly. "Derek, can you hear me?" She froze for a minute, desperate for a sign of change, and she finally got it. His hand tightened infinitesimally around hers, and she squeezed back for dear life. "Good, Derek. Good. I'm right here." His eyes opened next, opening like a hairline crack in his still face. JJ broke into a wide smile, and saw that the corners of his mouth turned up a bit as well.

"Jayje." He said, the single syllable coming out slurred through his dry lips.

"Yeah, Morgan, it's me. You're alright." Relieved tears rolled down her cheeks, and she brushed them away. "It's good to see you."

"Stop crying." His voice was slowly regaining its customary authority as his face broke into a small grin. "Where is everyone else?" He let go of JJ's hand and rubbed his eyes, noting the pulse oximeter clipped to his finger. He lifted his other arm, rolling his eyes at the IV.

"Slow down there, Morgan. I should get the doctors." She stood up, cracking her back. "Hotch and Blake went back to Quantico, Rossi took Garcia to the hotel, and Reid and Emily took your mom and sister out to get some food."

"My mom? Emily? Why is Emily here?" His dark eyes roved over his body as he took stock of his body, wincing as he felt some of his injuries. "God. What happened to me?"

"I'm going to go get the doctor." JJ said, dodging his question. "Just rest; I'll be right back." AS she walked away, her thoughts whirled. She was not the one that was supposed to be there when he woke up, that was for his family, or for Garcia or Emily. And how on earth was she going to explain to him what happened, when she could barely bring herself to think about it. She arrived at the nurses' station and hurriedly explained that Morgan was awake. As they leaped into action, JJ borrowed the landline and quickly called Hotch. "Hey, it's me." She sputtered, trying to keep an eye on Morgan's room. "He's up. Can you call everyone else? Reid and Em are out with the Morgans, try to get to them first."

"You got it. Stay with him." The line cut off with a sharp click, and JJ jogged back at Morgan's room, a little out of breath. He had lost his smile as a new doctor prodded at his side, and she grimaced sympathetically as she rejoined him.

"How are you doing?" She asked. There was a nurse examining the readouts on the machines, and she added a dose of something to the IV.

"Fine." He answered, but he winced again as the doctor touched his stomach. "I think she just added some morphine anyways."

The doctor walked around to join them and smiled. "Everything looks good, Agent. You just need to stay as still as possible for the time being. We're not going to sedate you again for the time being, but if you feel tired at all you should try to go back to sleep. I'll let you guys talk for a while before I fully examine you." He walked out of the room, the nurse following at his heels.

"JJ." Morgan started immediately. "I remember getting shot, and you guys showing up. Beyond that…" He shrugged his shoulders, but hissed in pain. "Right. Not moving, I got it." Already, he was the typical Morgan that she knew and loved; his eyes were bright and attentive and his hands fluttered on top of the sheet, not used to being still for so long.

JJ bit her lip, not sure how to proceed. "We got the hostages out, but Helmsley—the shooter—barricaded himself inside and set off a bomb, we think accidentally. He was killed in the explosion." She was walking on thin ice, and didn't know how far to take it, but Morgan didn't catch her nervousness.

"So everyone got out safe? Well, except me." As soon as he said it, he saw the answer in JJ's face. "Oh God…" He breathed. He closed his eyes tight. "Just tell me." She reached for his hand, but he moved it away, staring right into her eyes. "Jayje."

"Derek…it was Eli. Helmsley kept him in the restaurant. He…he got caught in the blast. There was nothing anyone could do." She could almost see the information going through his mind, from the first stages of shock to understanding, to a wordless, tearless sorrow that seemed to cleave him in two. He sank into the pillow even further, his face blank for a second before it contorted into complete and total anguish. JJ rubbed his arm in soft soothing circles as the tears worked their way out of Morgan's heavily shut eyes. He tried to be strong, but lost it. He curled into a ball on his uninjured side, and JJ was sure that the physical pain must have been excruciating. "Morgan, you need to lie flat." JJ pleaded uselessly. She moved to turn him over again, but wasn't sure how to touch him without causing him more pain.

It was hard enough watching a stranger go through the grief, and the sadness, but seeing such agony on the face of a friend is exponentially worse. Tears pricked JJ's eyes as she struggled to find something, anything to say. The pain inside Morgan finally found a voice, but it was quiet, the intensely sorrowful weeping of a parent for a lost child, or a lover for a lost partner. The small noises terrified JJ, she had never seen Morgan be so vulnerable as he was in that scarily long moment. He could barely catch his breath as he gulped in air, and JJ tried as best she could to wipe his tears away but she was not nearly fast enough. All she could do was hold his hand and wait for the flood to subside; all she could do was wait helplessly until Morgan came back to her from the dark places in his mind.

And after several long minutes, he did remerge, finally opening his now reddened eyes. But it was a different Morgan, one who had found anger deep within himself and brought it to the surface. "JJ." He said, his voice hardened by grief, "What happened?"

"Morgan, you couldn't have done anything. It was an accident." Her tearful eyes bored into his, imploring him to understand.

"It was murder." He corrected, almost spitting. "Tell me what happened."

"No." She said resolutely, standing. "I need to go find the doctor again. Your family will be here soon, and—"

Morgan stopped her by grabbing her arm, his grip firm around her thin forearm. His eyes were cold, and JJ warily looked down at his hand. She had never seen him as terrifyingly harsh as he was now, not even during the Buford cases, not even when Emily died, not with any unsub that the team had pursued. "No JJ. I need to know."

"Morgan I can't tell you." She said evenly, trying to pull away.

"Can't? Or won't?" He pushed himself up with his free hand until he was sitting, his feet swinging over the side if the bed.

"Let me go, Morgan!" She said firmly, much like the way she talked to a petulant Henry. But this was far beyond her motherly powers of authority, and Morgan was not a child.

"JJ, just tell me!" Even with Morgan injured, JJ was at the mercy of his vicelike grip, and she twisted wildly to get out of his reach.

"Derek, stop!" She pleaded, still trying to pull away. For the first time, a thrill of fear went down her spine; it was like a stranger was holding her tight instead of a team member.

Morgan swung his legs over the side of the bed, the pain forgotten, and JJ saw the IV needle pull out of his hand as he grabbed for her other arm. "JJ, I need to know!" He was on his feet and shouting now as hot, angry tears streaming down his face once again, and JJ wrenched wildly, twisting away from his grip just as the door slammed open.

"Morgan!" Emily cried, taking in the situation. The new voice confused him, and as he looked towards the door, his body betrayed him and he fell towards the bed, no longer able to support himself. She ran into the room with Fran and Desiree close on her heels, and two nurses ran in right behind them. Morgan was panting with exertion and pain, and as one nurse jabbed a needle into his forearm, he settled into his normal mind. He saw Reid go over to JJ, who was clutching her wrist to her chest. As he drifted off to sleep, his grief-stricken eyes found JJ's. Although he expected them to be terrified, instead he found himself looking into blue pools of pity, her empathy overcoming her fear. His eyes closed, and he was carried off to unconsciousness once again, where all he could do was wait to wake up.


End file.
